


The darkest chasm

by Nazori14



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, But first angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Romance, Sex, So much angst, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:09:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26271655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nazori14/pseuds/Nazori14
Summary: Feyre knew that peace wouldn't last forever.Not with the Illyrians unsatisfied after the war and the mortal queens still plotting on the continent.But what if the biggest threat comes from another world?The darkest hour has yet to come for Prythian, and Feyre can only hope that they are prepared to receive it.
Relationships: Amren/Varian (ACoTaR), Feyre Archeron & Rhysand, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Nesta Archeron/Cassian, Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Comments: 5
Kudos: 11





	1. A drift between worlds

The chilling air of the morning burned against Feyre’s cheeks, despite the scarf she had grabbed before winnowing to the Illyrian’s camp.  
Despite the early hour, the war-camp was already in full activity.  
“I hope we can leave soon.” Mor grumbled at her side, rocking on her heels. “I hate this place.”  
Feyre couldn’t disagree. The war-camps had been on edge since the end of the war, and they didn’t dare leaving them on their own for more than a few months at once. That was the reason of the frequent visits Rhysand and Cassian had payed to the war-lords, but Feyre knew there was something more this time. Rhysand had rescheduled the meeting last minute, saying that he would explain to her once he was done. She didn’t take part to the meeting with lord Devlon, preferring keeping Mor company in a place that Feyre knew she wasn’t comfortable with. So here she was: slowly freezing during a sunny day of winter, in the middle of the Illyrian’s mountains.  
She honestly kind of understood why Illyrians were such harsh people, if some of them were training shirtless with the snow basically submerging them.  
Rhysand and Cassian finally emerged from the tent, alongside lord Devlon. There was a trace of worry she didn’t like on all their faces, even Devlon’s.  
“I will search the area before we go. If it happens again, notify me immediately.” Rhysand was telling the old lord. Despite his casual pose, the way he kept his hands in his pockets… she could sense he was tensed. Something must had happened, something bad.  
Devlon excused himself, and Cassian let out a grunt.  
Feyre was going to ask what exactly was the reason for the sudden meeting, when the earth under her feet trembled. Rhysand’s arm was immediately around her shoulders, and a moment later they were midair. The wind was sharp as the blade of a sword, but she managed opening an eye to notice Mor in Cassian’s arms at their side. Others Illyrians had taken the sky, others were still on the ground.  
‘Is it an earthquake?’ she asked Rhysand through their bond. Her mate’s grip was firm, but she recognized the worry in his eyes.  
‘not a normal one.’  
Feyre frowned. Could it be magic? She thought only the Cauldron could do something like creating an earthquake, but they hadn’t heard any distress call from Myriam and Drakon. And if it was something other than the Cauldron, something similarly powerful…   
Rhysand hinted a soft smile, but there was no amusement in his gaze. “We are going to find out soon, I guess.”

The epicenter was a small glacier lake in the deep of the mountains.  
With those temperatures and the recent snowfalls, it should have been completely frozen, but not an inch of ice covered its surface.  
The shakes had yet to stop, but they were too small to cause any damage to the area apart from a few small avalanches.  
Rhysand and Cassian lowered in a small alcove near the lake. They had scouted the area, but there was no one and nothing other than snow.  
“Maybe it was just that; an earthquake.” Mor proposed, wiping some fresh show from her coat.  
Rhysand objected: “Devlon said that it happened before. There have been random shakes for the last month; nothing troublesome at first, but the intensity has started to increase.”  
The whole place looked too tranquil to be the source of the problem, but none of them lowered their guard.  
Feyre started thinking nothing would happen, when suddenly the earth shook again, this time much more than before at the camp. Rhysand created a shield around them, but they didn’t dare taking the sky when the lake started glowing. The water created a whirlpool at the center of the lake, while high waves crashed on the shores. They would have been soaked, was not for Rhysand’s shield surrounding them.  
“Mother’s tits, what the fuck is happening here?” Cassian mumbled. His syphons started glowing.  
What looked like a human hand broke the surface of the water. A head soon followed, gasping for air. Even from distance, Feyre could recognize it as a female. She was struggling to stay afloat, frantically searching around her for something.  
A monstrous jangle resonated in the air. Feyre’s bones shake of pure terror, a sensation wrongly familiar to the one the Cauldron made her felt.   
The female looked their way. There was nothing supernatural in her, just a tired, ordinary human face. She said something, and even if Feyre could not hear her, she had a feeling she knew what she was trying to tell them: Run.  
The shaking ceased, the light coming from the backdrop fading out completely.   
A dozen of horrible creatures emerged from the depth of the water, screaming. One of them grabbed the female, pulling her head under the water. Two others rushed on her, but the others had swiftly reached the shore right where they were.  
They slightly resembled the Attor, but these creatures were made for water rather than the sky. Their long arms culminated in webbed hands that had three claws each.  
Cassian had his sword in hand in a matter of seconds, while Mor had extracted a dagger from under her coat.  
There were nine of those creatures, five now outside the lake. The other four would join soon.  
Rhysand flinched. “I can’t reach their minds.”   
Cassian let out a low gurgle, showing his sword. “Let’s try with this, then.”  
He charged one of the creatures, decapitating it with a swift move. Rhysand followed, using his power of darkness to take down two at once. Mor engaged battle with another.  
Feyre gazed back at the lake. The female was still alive, judging from the chaos of bodies and splashes. The water around them had turned red.  
Her friends and her mate could easily overthrow the ones on the shore, but the female was evidently struggling. Without hesitation, Feyre raced for the lake.  
Rhysand screamed her name, but she quickly reassured him using their bond that she would be fine.  
Collecting Kallias’ power from within herself, Feyre froze a path on the lake. She almost slipped, but kept running.  
Her chest ached from the cold air filling her lungs, while she quickly freed herself from the heavy coat.   
The female had killed one of the three monsters; one of the remaining two was sinking its fangs in her forearm, the other was trying to pull her under water.  
Before even realizing it, Feyre had a dagger in hand. She slid on her knees, grabbing the hairless, oily head of the one ravaging her arm, and sank the blade into the creatures’ eye.  
It dropped dead instantly, allowing the female to free herself from his fangs. She kicked the remaining one, accepting the hand Feyre was offering to lift her from the water. She was mid-over, Feyre desperately trying to steady her position on the ice or they would both have fallen, when the creature jumped out of the water, so high Feyre could see its clawed feet and the long, spiked tail ready to shred both of them apart.  
The female lifted herself from the water, covering Feyre with her own body while she rotated her torso and raised the injured arm between them and the creature. Feyre only had the time to notice that the stranger’s body was so cold it should have been impossible for her to be still alive, when her hand glowed and released a wave of dark fire.  
Where a two meters tall creature had been only seconds before, ashes were being scattered in the wind.


	2. A visitor from faraway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just gonna pretend ACOFAS isn't a thing because it would complicate things...

Nesta’s head ached terribly.  
She had been woken up in the middle of the night by Elain’s scream of terror and spent the next hours reassuring her about her nightmare. Even after her sister finally fell asleep and Nesta returned to her room, she was unable to close her eyes for more than a few minutes. When morning broke, she was feeling more tired than when she went to bed.  
Feyre had already left when she emerged from her bedroom, headed to the Illyrian camp. Azriel was in the living room, a quiet sentinel left behind to guard the two sisters and Velaris. No sign of Elain; hopefully, she was still deep asleep in her room.  
Azriel nodded his good morning, but Nesta barely noticed it. She felt exhausted, and it wasn’t just because of the lack of sleep.  
She grabbed a book and a cup of tea, and settled on the sofa, on the opposite side of the room from where Azriel was sitting. The thought of breakfast was enough to make her sick, but she couldn’t resist the warm tea Nuala and Cerridwen always left for her on the kitchen’s table when she emerged from her room.  
Elain joined them about an hour or so later, when Nesta was rereading the same page for the fifth time.  
A sparkle of color had returned on her cheeks, but overall, she looked terrible. Nesta hated seeing her like that; it made her feel impotent and useless again, like she had been when their family lost everything, when the mortal Queens and the King of Hybern had forced them into the Cauldron and she had had to watch Elain disappear under the dark water.  
Normally, Elain would greet them, force herself to eat little bites of breakfast and then head for the garden, despite it being winter already.  
That morning, she stopped right in front of Nesta. Elain huddled her wool shawl, looking even smaller and thinner than usual.  
Nesta had already put her book aside.  
“Elain, what’s wrong?”  
Azriel was already standing, alerted. His gaze went from Elain to Nesta, to Elain again.  
“The Hive is coming. The bees’ nest has been damaged, its main gate nearly closed. If the bees cannot go outside, they will starve. They are coming here, now. This gate is small, but the flesh is abundant.” She muttered, tightening her grip on the shawl’s hems. “The Queen is angry with the bane. She’ll send her bees looking for her.”  
“Who’s this Queen?” Nesta asked, clenching her jaw. “The mortal Queens?”  
Elain denied. “No, this is something… stronger, and more ancient.”  
Azriel was going to ask something, when Morrigan winnowed right into the living room. She had lost her coat, and there was a purplish and jelly-looking substance spattered in her hair.  
Before any of them could ask her what was happening, she said, looking to Azriel: “You have to come to the House of Wind. It’s urgent.”  
Azriel immediately tensed. Elain lost all the color from her cheeks, evidently jumping to the same conclusion as Nesta: what she had dreamt, the destruction and havoc she had foreseen, was starting to happen.

Meanwhile, in the mortal lands

The old Queen seated on her golden throne, coldly listening to the Minister who was currently reporting the situation of the kingdom.  
Since the Hybern failure, she had been facing the ostracization of some of the nobles. A count had already been beheaded when he menaced of publicly revealing the five Queens’ plan, and it looked like more executions where going to happen in the next future. She couldn’t risk loosening her guard, or she would lose her position and her power in no time.  
“-earthquakes were reported in the south, your Majesty. This morning the most violent of-“ the Minister was saying, before being interrupted by the chaos of screams and clangor of swords outside the Throne Hall.  
The door was suddenly opened, revealing the corpses of dozens of her guards. A pale woman was standing in the middle of the massacre. A man and a woman were at her side, both covered head to toe in black clothes.  
The old Queen tensed.  
Her palace was an impenetrable fortress, enchanted to resist to Fae’s magic and to react to intruders. Still, that woman managed to breach into her defenses and killed her guards as if they were flies.  
The Minister screamed, miserably falling while rushing to leave the Throne hall. The guards inside pointed their spears at the woman, but she didn’t seem to notice them.  
Despite the blood spattered everywhere in the corridor that lead to the Throne hall, her weird clothes -boots and black leather pants, something a man could wear, and a tight shirt that underlined her slender torso and the well-built arms- were spotless.  
She was young and beautiful, exactly what the old Queen wanted to be again, but there was something off about that woman. She reminded her of the Cauldron’s power.   
The woman raised her chin, proudly. “You must be the ruler of this land.”  
The old Queen didn’t let her emotions show, as she answered: “Indeed I am. With whom I have the honor to speak, may I ask?”  
The woman paused, then said something to her comrades in a language the old Queen didn’t understand. They rapidly bowed, then closed the door.  
“I apologize for your dead servants.” She said, without a hint of regret. “I would like to speak to you, mortal ruler. I promise no harm will be done; I have no qualm with you or your people.”   
Looking from the massacre outside her Throne Hall, it was hard to believe. But if that woman had been able to breach her Palace’s defenses when even the Night Court spies couldn’t, there was nothing the Old Queen could do other than trust her word.  
She made sign to the remaining guards to leave. They hesitated, then exited from the same back door the Minister had used to escape.  
The woman quietly waited, never diverting her unreadable eyes from the Queen.  
“I am the ruler of a faraway country. I come from a world different from this one, and accidentally found myself within your territory’s borders.”  
Another world.  
The old Queen wanted to say that is was absurd, but she had already seen plenty of absurd things: humans turned into Fae, a Cauldron full of raw power that could erase thousands of soldiers with a single blow, a rumored cold and wicked ruler ready to bow for the sake of his friends.  
“I assume your visit is not for pleasure.”  
The woman slightly nodded, casually tapping a stain of blood with the toe of her boot. “I’m looking for someone; a redhaired woman. She is called the Bane.”  
The queen smiled amused, nervously tipping the jeweled finger on the opulent armrest of her throne. “Quite the interesting name.”  
The woman didn’t answer. Her mismatched eyes, a black one and a blue one, gave her the impression of searching right into her soul.  
“I’m afraid I never heard of her. She didn’t visit my Palace, at least.”  
“I didn’t think you did; she fell through a gate different from the one I used. I saw a sparkle of the place where I think she landed.” The woman said. “A country of snowcapped mountain ranges and a bright night sky, where winged humanoid creatures flew. I came looking for you, mortal ruler, exactly for this information.”  
The queen suppressed a laugh. Maybe the Cauldron was favoring her, or maybe it was the doing of the gods of other worlds. The unexpected visit from that strange woman was revealing itself to be quite the occasion for her.   
“The place you are describing is certainly the Night Court.” she explained, finally gaining the interest of the woman in front of her. “A land inhabited by barbarians and monsters, indeed. I’m afraid it won’t be easy finding the woman you are looking for, if she is at the Night Court- even for someone of your power. I bet she is held captive as we speak; the Night Court people are very harsh toward intruders.” There was a flinch in her eyes, so fast the queen thought she had imagined it. “I want to propose you a partnership, lady…”  
The woman tilted her head. A lock of her black hair escaped the bun, falling back on her pale face. “Nightingale.”  
“Lady Nightingale.” The queen repeated. “The Night Court is my enemy. It is our common interest to see those monsters eradicated. In exchange for your… assistance, I will help you in the search for this Bane woman.”  
For the first time since she had killed her guards and entered the Throne room, there was something like satisfaction on Nightingale’s marmoreal face. “Just tell me who to kill, mortal.”

**Author's Note:**

> hello everyone!  
> This is my first fanfic on AO3, been planning on writing it for a while.  
> The story will deal with heavy themes and some scenes will be kinda rough, but I will signal it at the beginning of the chapter.  
> I apologize for any grammatical mistake, english is actually my third language. If you notice any mistake, feel free to point them out and I'll correct them.  
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter :)  
> (I'll try publishing a new chapter every 1/2 weeks, I pretty much know the entire plot and have some scenes already written)


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